Coldsnap: The Billionaire Alpha's Fated Pregnant Princess (GL)

Chapter 477 - Won’t Break Eggs Others Can, Or Walk On Eggshells Others Leave

"Citra. Can I ask you something?"

Zoé caught fully up and spoke to me again on the thirty-third floor landing. She looked very serious, so I was expecting the kind of questions that kids often have.

Those ones that are easy to answer quickly, if we just use what we’ve convinced ourselves to believe without any thought. But harder to answer if we actually search for something wise to reply with.

"Is it... is it really that bad? I mean being the person people look to. You’re good at it. From what I saw down there."

"Sometimes being capable of something and wanting to be the key person responsible for it are different matters entirely. I think this world has a phrase that sounds something like... if you want thing done well, you do it yourself."

"I’m not following. Doesn’t that mean you should do it?"

"Well. If you wanted a certain dish cooked, would you insist on doing it yourself when you know full well that you might leave bits of eggshells in the meal? With a competent chef just standing by watching you?"

My royal education was training for the performance of authority. Not for the true substance of it - since I was never expected to wield real power, just look pretty and effective once I was married away.

> Of course, the Queen Mother herself was excellent at both... and only ever bothered teaching me that it is okay to ’break eggs’ as long as I crush them completely to dust. <

Paraphrasing the lesson, of course. Not like I’d ever done anything but crack one of them open with my jaws and lap up the insides... before I came to this world.

Huh. I think I’m getting hungry again. I should ask Martha what the deal is with her chickens. I’m sure she didn’t just let them die, even if I’m less certain they are actively laying in these conditions.

"I think I get it."

"Oh?"

"Like how I’m good at math but I hated when Mrs. Hardwilde made me tutor another kid. Because then they blame me when they still fail. I don’t know how to explain it in a way they understand, just because I understand it..."

"...Yes. Very much like that. I think."

Talk about looking like you’re complaining while sounding proud. Natural academics are as infuriating as natural *anything* to someone either trying or being forced to achieve similar results.

> I kind of get on a new level why those kids were bullying her that day, even if I can’t condone it. <

The fire opal eyes of the white wolf plushy in my soul seem to judge me. I swear they actually narrowed for a heartbeat!

"What’s this?"

She approached where someone had taped a paper sign to the wall, on the landing between twenty-nine and twenty-eight. I think it was there last time I made this trek but I ignored reading it in favor of having a slow breakdown.

[QUIET HOURS 10PM-6AM - NO SLAMMING DOORS - THIS MEANS YOU, KARL].

"I have no clue. Apparently someone that uses this stairwell is being a nuisance to the other residents."

"Oh. I guess we’ve had problems down there like that too. I just figured the people up here... I don’t know. I was being silly."

A drawing of what might be a dog... or possibly a very long-faced cat... I certainly hope it is not meant to be a fox or I will be *incredibly insulted* - was stuck below it. I do not think the two are linked together, probably just the result of a child seeing something posted and a parent allowing them to show off their work.

"Sometimes things feel a bit more normal than they really are. And other times you can only think about how wrong it is."

"Yeah. I understand that."

Claire and so many others are working constantly to let people feel that way after all. Without a lot of thanks. Maybe I should let her watch him for a bit again later... even if that sounds like it is counterproductive to relaxing to me.

"Come on, lets keep going before my son decides to get hungry. He did eat before I came downstairs, but the clock is ticking."

Tapping my palm just once over the back of her hair, the young girl looked at me and blinked, processing that statement with a tilt of her head that reminded me of Vrika when I dove into my mindscape and said something the wolf could not parse.

"Uh. Okay? I... wait... how does..."

Her eyes ticked down, but not quite at the pup in the pouch. A bit too left and right for that! My finger pokes out between her eyebrows and tilts her head back up.

"It’s okay not to think about it that much. Besides, I’ve started him on puréed meat. You won’t have to deal with seeing me breastfeeding."

She nods dumbly while rubbing her neck and walking off ahead of me. Silent and thinking things through again more than I actually appreciate, though I understand the necessity.

> Honestly, it’s tough to be a Mentor if I have to think too carefully about every little thing I say to her. And I still don’t entirely know everything that the system is doing with the connection. <

I started to feel a bit anxious as my hand found the stair rail. So far all the meetings with people have been... well, it’s hard to call them all good. But they weren’t terrible.

"Citra?"

"Sorry."

Pushing through the feeling, I catch up with her. Unlike the other landings, this floor has a guard. An Omega who looks like he had been waiting to swipe it quickly and get out of our way.

Probably Claire, being a busybody.

On the other side of the entrance, in the hallway, was a Rimecoat member I didn’t recognize seeing before. Full werewolf, but not the one I’d frightened badly enough that I should probably send a form of apology through someone.

This man was broader, much older, and had the look of someone who’d been doing bruiser work long before the world ended. He met my face first, then pivoted to Zoé, then back to my chest.

Or rather, at Asha. A fact which is just never going to stop making my hackles raise. His nostrils flared once to scent us. Making it obvious. Before he nodded and stepped aside with his hand gesturing us through.

I notice the girl beside me shaking but bravely trying to walk on the side squarely between me and him. So of course I grab her by the back of the neck and shut that behavior down. Holding her on the other side, where I can feel like a real adult... and not just a royal playing at one.

"Mrs. Voss. It’s nice to meet you."

"I don’t mind being called that at all, but just Citra is also fine."

"Respectfully, no it’s not, ma’am."

A rich voice. I wasn’t expecting to be talked to by a guard this time. Wasn’t expecting to be backtalked either.

> Hm. Maybe I’m actually just a spoiled princess after all? <

Though he kind of reminds me of that one member that was on my security detail before, I’m pretty certain that they are not related. For I doubt Kyrie would have given that first man such a job if they were.

His own scent is composed of that same Rimecoat snow-base but mixed with something that smells a bit... vinegary. Like nearly soured wine has been spilled on a snowcone?

I don’t bother keeping my eyes on his. Even if I know exactly who he is from photos on the Hunter’s app. I don’t need to win some canine challenge as I walk past.

"Well, Mr. Whitecrest. If you’d prefer to argue about what should be permissible or not, perhaps we should have that conversation at a time that I am willing to entertain your insolence masked as upkeeping tradition. Schedule it for the *next* Apocalypse, maybe?"

I can easily win this other ways. It’s not like I’m above word-warfare with his family already. Victoria may not come at me again with it, if she’s actually trying to turn over a new leaf.

But that doesn’t mean the rest of these people will lay down their sharp tongues.

Though poor Zoé seems less amused, or impressed, by my verbally aggressive stance. More... *limp*. As I almost entirely have to hold her up while we head to check on others that *will* call me my name.

Perhaps a seamstress first.